


Kilig

by Rileyout



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: 70s AU, Blatant abuse of Shakespear, Cambridge rules, Daisy Unwin is canon, Eggsy is a sex pest, Eggsy's in love, F/M, Harry and Lee are University friends, Harry is a shit, Lee is a shit, M/M, Period Typical Slurs, Prog Rock appreciation hour, Russian Literature, Slow Burn, holiday au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 11:50:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12770481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rileyout/pseuds/Rileyout
Summary: When he looks back on it Italy was possibly the best and worst idea he had ever had.





	Kilig

**Author's Note:**

> This originally started out as what I imagined "Call me by your name" was going to be like but in the end it turned into this.   
> Big thanks to Emphysematous and LelithSugar for listening to me whine and kick my arse to finish this and helping with my head canon for Lee Unwin (Julian Rhind-Tutt) and Eggsy's grandfather (Michael York) and answering my ridiculous questions.
> 
> So here it is... and I am sorry

Tagalog noun: the thrilling feeling of butterflies in your stomach that you typically feel when something romantic happens.

 

When he looks back on it Italy was possibly the best and worst idea he had ever had. Lee Unwin had been his best friend since the age of 18 and now 26 years later he still is. The invite the spend a few weeks had been extended years ago, but when news of Michelle’s pregnancy had come through he’d realised that he’d run out of excuses. That’s how he found himself on a flight from Mexico, where he had been putting to good use his knowledge of Spanish and fast learning to get a job translating modern Mexican classics and poetry into English and sunning himself. 

His flight lands late and he has to stay in the city over night, rents a car in the morning and promptly gets himself lost. 

The villa is beautiful, rustic in the way everything in Italy seems to be. It's fenced in on all sides by lemon trees, the sweet citrus scent on the wind. There's a lake no more than a hundred yards from the patio, part of what is a sprawling garden, dotted with wild flowers and tall grass. 

Lee greets him with the same ageless smile that he's always had and a firm handshake. He looks much the same as when Harry had seen him last, bar the few wisps of grey at temples that barely show thanks to his ginger hair, face showing the first lines of age showing around his eyes. He’s not alone, Michelle still looks as beautiful as the day Lee had married her, golden hair framing her face which is already evenly tanned, stomach swollen with pregnancy. Lee had told him the day before he’d flown, had asked him if he’d extent the honour again of being a godfather to their newest child. She welcomes him with a hug and gushes about how he looks as good as ever and how the Mexico had clearly treated him well.

By the time Michelle’s done with him, they’re inside the house, Lee having disappeared with his luggage to the cabin that he’d offered. The inside of the villa is just as beautiful and rustic as the outside. They talk quietly while Michelle makes tea, Lee trudging back in minutes later with a young man trailing behind him, looking for all the world bored and unimpressed by everything.

Harry takes him in with a calculated look. The perfect jawline that joins to the slope of his neck into thin shoulders, dotted with freckles over tanned skin. He’s shorter than Lee by half a foot, skinny in the way teenagers are in the years before they become physical adults. 

"Harry, you remember Eggsy" and he does, remembers him as a small, carefree child who spent any time he could outside climbing trees and poking dead slugs. He does not remember thinking that he would grow into a handsome young man with a jawline chiselled from marble, "Eggsy, this is Harry, your godfather."

“Pleasure to meet you.” He holds out a hand for Harry to take and it feels wrong, feels like Harry should be wrapping his arms around the young man and whispering sweetly in his ear about how he would like to take him to bed and fuck him. He snaps out of it, reminds himself that Eggsy is far too young for him and that not everyone is the same as him.

 

He settles himself into the cabin by the dock, a rather large thing considering with a separate kitchen and lounge area and a wall filed with books that Harry knows that Lee has collected since he was old enough to read. He hadn’t been planning to go up to the house for dinner but Michelle had insisted, reminding him that there was nothing in the cabin except a can of nine-year-old tomato soup that he has left there last time he had visited. 

So, it’s not surprising that he had expected to spent the rest of the evening in solitude after Michelle had sent him back with a promise from Harry that he wouldn’t see him outside the cabin until late morning. He’s just settling down with a book when a knock comes at the door, he thinks to ignore it until it comes again and he remembers that he’s not at home or in some hotel where he more often than not ignores other people’s existence.

“Dad said you translate Russian classics,” Eggsy is standing on the porch, shirt unbuttoned and skin glowing in the dim lights of the cabin, “Said you’d probably be the best person to talk to about the classes at Cambridge.”

Harry lets him in, slouches back into the chair he had been in before and picks up his glass of whiskey. He was never one to go without proper previsions. 

“Of course. Russian though? You’d be better off with Italian.” He gestures to the seat across from him and Eggsy folds himself into it, still looking at Harry like he had painted the stars themselves.

“I knew you’d say that. It took me three weeks to learn it though.”

“Three weeks?” Eggsy nods, picks up Harry’s copy of To Kill a Mocking Bird and turns to look at the back.

“Dad keeps a lot of your translations around, you know the split ones. I picked most of the language up from that. The rest I learnt from Viktor, he cuts the grass once a week,” He puts the book down carefully, picking up another one and reading the back again, mouth moving slightly around the harsh letters of the Russian translation, “This is my favourite, I like how it portrays the social change in Russia at time it was written, very poignant. I’ve got your completed translation as well, dad got it for me when I got into Cambridge, said I’d probably have to study it.”

Harry raises an eyebrow. Lee has gushed about how smart Eggsy was but Harry had though it was the same an any other parent who thought that their children were the smartest being on the earth but he can now clearly see that he was telling the truth. Eggsy presents as a usual teenager, would stick out like a sore thumb at Cambridge, much like his dad did, but Harry knows if he’s anything like his dad he’ll make it work will outsmart every single person who ever doubted him and somehow manage to be humble about it. He sets the glass of whiskey down and stands, moving behind the seat Eggsy is sitting in and picks another book. 

“You might want to read this. It’s been on the syllabus since I was a student. Your father used to make me read it to him in the original Russian when we were drunk, he was absolute bastard about it. He once made me teach him the opening speech of Taming of the Shrew to impress a girl. Needless to say it didn’t go well, even though I warned him. I believe your mother called a ‘hopeless twat’.” He hands the book over, fingers brushing against Eggsy’s and he almost jerks his hand away but doesn’t want to risk being rude. The younger man smiles, nose crinkling a little in silent laughter as he runs a finger over the gold embossing. 

“Thanks. I’ll give it a go,” He opens the book half way through on a well creased page and taps a finger against one of the notes scrawled there, “Do you always deface your books.” Harry sits on the arm of the chair and leans in to take a look. 

He should have known better, the signs were all there, but still he’s surprised when Eggsy leans in and kisses him. It’s not very good, lacks the sophistication of someone who has kissed a dozen lovers and has more of the finesse of someone filled with youth who’s only experience of kissing is the short, misguided fumblings of a teenager.

“That is not appropriate.”

“Why? I like you.” He looks desperate, like he can’t figure out exactly what he’s done wrong.

“I’m old enough to be your father. I am your godfather.” Eggsy huffs out a laugh.

“I haven’t seen you in 10 years, I hardly think that qualifies as good god parenting.”

“That is enough. You need to leave,” He stands, moving to collect his glass of whiskey, downing it and looking at Eggsy again with a dark look in his eye, “Leave.”

Eggsy huffs again but collect the book off of the table and shows himself out.

 

The next day he makes good on his promise to Michelle. It’s well past 11 o’clock when he raises, his mouth tasting of stale whiskey and his head throbbing. He walks up to the house and has a poor man’s breakfast of coffee and eggs thanks to Lee and makes his way back down to the cabin with a fresh thermos and some supplies that Michelle had insisted that he take with him. 

He sets himself up outside in the sun with a fresh pot of tea, several books and a ratty note book that he uses. He is still in a daze from the alcohol that he doesn’t realise that he’s the not the only one out there. 

Eggsy is stretched out on the dock, skin already golden, with two other young men, all of them in various states of undress, basking in the sun. He pointedly ignores them and sets himself up for a long day of scribbled notes and lukewarm tea. That’s exactly how he would have spent the day, but its barely been half an hour when he’s distracted from his work by shouts of joy and looks up to see Eggsy dripping wet and smiling right at him. He does the only thing he can think of and takes himself back inside to make another pot of tea and to find his cigarettes.

He manages another few peaceful hours of work, Eggsy’s friends having disappeared somewhere leaving him alone and Harry can pretend that he’s not pleased about that. He's taking a short break when Eggsy finally wonders over. Harry eyes him over his cup of tea, cigarette burning between his fingers as he does. His visitor just drops himself into the spare seat and steals Harry's tea right from his hand, followed by his cigarette. 

"I haven't had a cigarette in ages." Harry raises an eyebrow and steals his tea back, taking a small sip and trying to think about how domesticated this all feels. 

"I should hope not with your mother being pregnant." There's a rumble of laughter in response and Eggsy takes another drag on the cigarette before stubbing it out. 

They sit in amicable silence, Harry scribbling a few notes in rough Cyrillic, the breeze ruffling his hair and papers. His fingers itch for another cigarette but he's out and would need to drive into town for more, something he's not really willing to do right now. 

Eggsy has his head tipped back, eyes closed against the sun and he looks like a tribute to Antinous with his hair falling in waves and his skin brushed with freckles. If this had been what Hadrian had beheld then no wonder he had wept upon his death. He excuses himself quietly to make another pot of tea. Eggsy is still there when he returns and all Harry can do is settle down and ignore him as he carries on his work and lets the boy steal sips of his tea.

"I'm sorry for last night," The breeze picks up as if listening in on them and Harry continues to read the manuscript in front of him. He's not going say it's alright, because it isn't, "I didn't mean to be so forward. It's just I've heard so much about you and you were better than I thought," he pauses for breath and Harry finally looks up, sees the sincere look of sadness and wants to kiss it away. 

There's no point in answering, in offering comfort, Eggsy having said enough and again Harry is reminded that this person before him is still a boy, far too young for him, far too lively to put up with a man deeply bruised by a world that thought him perverted. 

"I'm not going to give up though. I like you and I can tell that you feel the same. I just can't tell why you won't admit it." 

The silence returns again, whole Harry weighs up exactly what wants to say.

"I think it's time you went back to the house," He stands, stacking his things and taking them inside, leaves the tea to collect later. Eggsy trails him, watches as he carefully puts his work down and collect his keys, "I need to go into town. I'm sure your mother would be grateful for a hand with supper." 

He doesn't intend to stay out, doesn't intend to find a young man to spend the night with but he does any way. He drowns himself in dark hair and dark eyes and doesn't think about Eggsy in the slightest as he gets fucked sticky and drinks more than is advisable for someone his age. 

He spends the morning after lounging on a sun soaked balcony, smoking and drinking coffee until his bed fellow manages to coax him back between the sheets with whispered promises of pleasure and lust that he only seems to fulfil in fleeting moments. 

Work calls him back late afternoon, the drive clearing the last of his hangover. The villa is quiet when he arrives, crickets hum and he takes himself directly to the cabin, more than thankful for the peace and solitude. Except he's not alone, Eggsy is curled up on the bed, legs twisted in sheets that Harry knows at just the wrong side of hot. 

He leaves him sleeping a while longer, moves around the space quietly. Eggsy's awake when he comes back from the shower, towel slung low on his waist and he knows he's a map of bite marks and finger print bruises. 

“Oh,” He looks heart broken, probably is, but this is Harry, this is how he survives, “You’ve been gone a while.”

He’s not looking at Harry though, not looking at the marks on his hips and throat. He stands, brushing himself down and pushing his feet into shoes. He pushes past Harry, head ducked down, and heads for the door. He stops and looks back at Harry, his face still holds the look of sadness and heartbreak. 

“I’m not still not giving up.”

 

It goes on like that for the next two weeks. Harry does his best to ignore Eggsy’s advances, doesn't work outside when Eggsy is at the lake, sits himself as far away from him at meals in case he should lean into his space. Except it's not really working. Eggsy is too much like Lee and he remembers the stubborn 18-year-old working class boy who had refused to leave him alone. 

If anything, Eggsy gets braver, takes to walking around shirtless in a way that is justified by the heat. He crowds Harry's space more, reaches over him to get something that draws Harry's gaze to strip of skin that shows when he deems it necessary to wear a top. He spends far too much time outside at the lake, right in Harry view, messing around with his friends and laughing loudly so as to draw attention to himself. 

By the third weeks of being there Harry’s about ready to lost his mind. He takes himself into the city again, spends the night with a lovely couple and then again the next night, before returning to villa and spending the next three days secluded to his cabin until Lee barges in and demands that he comes up to the house for dinner or he’ll send the whole family down and Harry knows when he’s been backed into a corner. Eggsy isn’t exactly happy to see him, he has dark circles under his eyes and refuses to talk to with Ryan or Jamal and even excuses himself as soon as possible.

Harry find him outside a few hours later, sulking under a tree. He lights himself a cigarette, doesn’t talk as he leans against the same tree and looks up at the stars. It’s so clear that he can trace the constellations with his eyes, names them from memory and thinks of his Grandfather, a serious man who made his money in engineering and motors and enjoyed astronomy more than he liked to let on. He’s on his second cigarette when Eggsy finally decides to talk

“Do you just fuck anything you see?” he’s still in a frightful mood and his words are meant to hurt but honestly, they don’t. Harry knows who he is, he’s not proud of it but it’s who he is. 

“Clearly not. I’m not fucking you after all,” Those words do cut, Harry’s been around long enough to know what really hurts, knows how to use his own perversion against others, “It’s not very becoming of someone your age to be sulking on a Friday night.”

He drops his cigarette and crushes it under foot. 

“I’ll be going into town again next week for business. I don’t intend to be back for a few days,” He can feel Eggsy’s glare drilling into the side of his head, “You should get used to being disappointed if you plan to continue this way. This world, for all its small steps towards equality doesn’t give a damn about people like me and it’s not going to give a damn about you either. Remember that.”

He returns to his cabin, locks the door behind him and crawls into bed with a glass of wine and a book and does not think about Eggsy for the rest of the night. 

 

It’s probably for the best that Harry spends the next few days holed up in the cabin writing out some of the more complicated and structured sentences. He’s beyond exhausted when Lee comes down see him, cons him out a night’s work with a packet of cigarettes and good bottle of wine. He cracks the cigarettes and leaves the wine for another night, already so tired that he knows that by the time he’s finished his first glass he’ll be out like a light. 

“I’ll get straight to the point. Dad is coming to stay, help out around the house so Michelle can rest up,” Harry cocks an eyebrow at him but keeps smoking, “I need to you keep an eye on the boys. I promise they’ll be no hassle.”

“I do believe you once told me that I was would make a terrible parent and that you would never allow me to look after any child of yours unsupervised.”

“And then I asked you to be Eggsy’s god father, so you can’t be all that bad,” He snatches the cigarette out of Harry’s mouth and takes the last drag, “Besides, Michelle trusts you and she’s not more sense than the two of us combined.”

“Is he aware of this?”

“Nah, I thought I’d run the idea past you first. Please, I want to take Michelle out one last time before the baby comes.” He gives Harry the same look that he did when they were 20 and stupid and Lee wanted to do something that usually mean that one of them was going to end up getting hurt. 

“Fine, but it’s going to cost you more than a pack of cigarettes and bottle of wine.”

“You are the best. I’ll get you as many packs of cigarettes and bottles of wine you can manages. I’ll give you that first edition of ‘Fathers and Sons’ you’ve had your eye on.”

Harry can’t help but laugh, misses the youthful look of love on Lee’s face as he bounces around smiling like the giant idiot he is and squirms away when Lee drops a sloppy kiss to his forehead and then makes a run for it before Harry can change his mind. 

Eggsy reacts exactly has Lee had expected had huffed when Lee had explained that they would be staying overnight in Naples and that he wanted Eggsy and his friends to be on their best behaviour.

“I don’t need a babysitter, I’m an adult.”

“When you’re old enough to vote, then you’re an adult. Until then Harry’s in charge,” He ruffles Eggsy’s hair playfully, “It’s just one night, kid.”

He huffs again, but smiles despite himself.

“Besides, he’s only here for another week. If I were you I’d use this opportunity to pick his brain about Russian literature,” He drops a kiss to the top of Eggsy head, a habit he picked up when Eggsy was a baby that never seemed to disappear, “Be good for me, yeah?”

By reason, Harry had known that Eggsy would show up to talk to him. Especially when he’d mentioned to Lee that he would be flying directly to London in the next week or two to meet his publisher. It’s late though when he does. Harry’s sitting at the end of the dock, feet dipped into the water and nursing a large glass of wine, one of many. He’s had a hard day, a hard week, the words not coming easy and he’s starting to feel the strain of his publisher’s weekly phone calls.

“Dad says you’re leaving next week.”

“Yes. I’m needed at the publishers in London to go over some final editing before I can start typing this into a sellable book,” He takes a sip of his wine, before setting it down on the wooden boards of the deck, “Shouldn’t you be out with your friends?”

“It’s Thursday, no one goes out on a Thursday,” He rolls his eyes, the very description of teenage annoyance. He drops himself into the space next to Harry and leans over him to steal his wine, “Sides, Ryan and Jamal are sleeping bunch of losers.”

He drains the glass and Harry shakes his head, taking it back from him and refills it setting it a little further away from Eggsy this time and gets a half-arsed laugh in return. He looks down at the water, kicks his feet a little and 

The kiss is sloppy, Harry lacking his usual finesse due to drink. Eggsy welcomes it though, tilts his head enough to make the angle better, opens his mouth when Harry runs his tongue along his bottom lip and moans into it. It’s that, that makes Harry snap out of the drunken haze he is in, jerking back and looking at Eggsy with mild horror on his features. 

“Harry?”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that,” He rubs a hand over his face, “Forgive me. I’ve had too much to drink, it would be best if you went.”

“Fuck you, Harry. You can’t just do that and then tell me to fuck off,” He’s got venom in his eyes and poison on his tongue, “Go fuck yourself.” 

He gone before Harry can apologise, leaving a trail of wet foot prints in his wake. 

 

Looking after three teenagers should be easy, turns out not to be. He’d planned on making dinner for when the boys were back, but by the time he looks up from his book it’s gone 9 o’clock and it moon is out in full. He’s not worried, they’re young and together and there’s not much trouble that they can get themselves into around these secluded parts. It only occurs to him later than he knows nothing about being a parent or looking after children and honestly, he should have been far more worried than he was. 

It’s well past 10pm when he hears voices coming up the drive. He opens the book and spots Jamal and Ryan, stomach dropping when he realises that Eggsy isn’t with them. 

"Where is Eggsy?" Ryan stops laughing and looks at Jamal, "Ryan?"

"He's... In town Mr Hart. He wanted to say out longer."

"Where in town?" They share another look and Ryan ducks his head, muttering under his breath, "Ryan, where in town?"

"Don't." Jamal is shaking his head and looking at Ryan imploringly, but Ryan just shakes his head back at him. 

"Jamal, he's gonna get himself in trouble," he looks at Harry again and then away, "There's a bar that people go to. You know people like you and Eggsy. I mean everyone goes there, but they let you drink if your underage. He was talking to this guy when we left." 

The heat in his stomach boils over and he barely manages to not snap at them both for being so stupid. 

"You need to tell me exactly where he went," Ryan nods and blurts out an address for a little bar that Harry has seen on the way into the city, "I will go and get him and you two will be in bed by the time we are back, do you understand?"

The both nod, Jamal giving him a hard look that Harry smoothly ignores, pushing his feet into shoes and collecting his keys. 

 

He parks the car haphazardly under a tree, spots Eggsy in the crowd of other young people with ease, drink in hand and looking for all the world like playing pretend at being happy. He talking an older gentleman, close enough in age and looks that Harry can guess what he is up to. It's so much hard to swallow down his rage after that. 

It's not hard to get into the bar, people let him through as though reading his determination and deciding it's safer to stay out of his way. Eggsy is still at the bar, still talking to this unknown poor attempt of a doppelganger. 

"Eggsy." He's a little satisfied when Eggsy jumps, spilling wine over his hand and shirt. 

"Shit, Harry! What are you doing?"

"Taking you home." He plucks the glass of wine out of Eggsy hand and deposits in the bar under the watchful eye of its tender. Eggsy companion seems to want to say something but decides against it, ducks his eyes when Harry turns to look at him.

No one tries to stop them as Harry drags Eggsy out to the car. It's cooler outside the press of bodies, but it does nothing to calm his rage and turns on the teen as soon as they are outside.

"What the hell do you think you were doing?" Eggsy jerks himself free of Harry grasp. 

"Fuck off, you're not my dad."   
   
"No, I'm not. I would hardly think you'd treat your father like this." He grabs one of Eggsy wrists, pulls him closer to the car. 

"Why do you even care? I'm young ain't I?"

"You, are too young to be drinking." Eggsy shakes him off again. 

"I'm 17, you arse."

"Oh good, you're 17," He gives Eggsy a disdainful look, "get in the car, Eggsy."

“Don’t treat me like a kid. You don’t even know me. Why are you even here? Why don't you just leave?”

He's more than happy to leave him there, let him find his own way back to the house, but he had promised Lee he would look after Eggsy and he would be a terrible godfather if Eggsy was found murdered on the road side. He figures he could probably get Eggsy in car with a bit of manhandling if needed, but he'd rather not.  

"I promised I would take care of you and that includes stopping you from making terrible choices because you're angry at me," he pulls open the passenger side door, "Get in."

"Fine, but I want you to fuck me." It's spat out and Harry know he doesn't mean it, knows it just the alcohol making him say these things. 

"Eggsy." Harry's tired, so very tired of this. Of Eggsy pressing and pressing, of pretending that he's the perfect gentleman in any sense for the word. That he doesn't have this perversion inside of him.

“Promise me.”

“I can’t,” Eggsy’s face darkens and Harry is unsure of what to do to calm him, “I just can’t.”

“You’re a liar and hypocrite, you know that?” He throws himself into the car before Harry can reply, “Just take me home.”

He falls asleep in the car about 10 minutes into their journey, head resting against the window and he looks so young and Harry curses himself for being so hard on the boy, but it's out weighted by his selfish desire to kept him safe and close, unspoilt and his. 

The villa lights are still bright when they pull up, Jamal and Ryan's light is out though and Harry glad that they don't have to see their friend like this. He wakes the teen gently, helps him out of the car and into the villa, helps him into bed, shoes and stained shirt left by door. Eggsy flops on the bed, arms spread and whines when Harry manoeuvres him under the sheets. He pulls the covers up and smooths them down at the sides. Eggsy stares at him with blurry, half lidded eyes. 

"Why don't you love me?" He so, so quiet when he says it and Harry's heart breaks a little more. 

"Something's it's not a case of don't but can't," he runs a gentle hand over Eggsy's hair, "you should sleep, you're going to feel terrible in the morning." 

Eggsy huffs but shuts his eyes anyway, barely managing to get a goodnight out as Harry shuts the door. 

 

It’s late morning when Eggsy finally raises. Harry’s sitting outside leafing through a book when Eggsy finds him. They don’t say anything and Eggsy drops down next to him, he lays his head in Harry's lap, sunglasses firmly in place and Harry runs his fingers through his hair and smiles. 

"I feel terrible." He sounds it as well, voice thick and croaky probably from being sick most of the night. 

"That would be the wine." Eggsy smiles at him for a moment before curling up a little and looking out at the lake. 

"Read to me." Harry looks at him for a moment, washed out under his tan and frowning at the sunlight. 

"I doubt you would find it very interesting. It's in Dutch."

"Try. I don't think it matters. I want to hear you talk, I like your voice." It’s not an apology but it’s the best that either of them can do at this time. 

“If you insist, but I did warn you,” He clears his throat and looks down at the page to find his place, “Hij stapt naar de rand van het trottoir. Met twee brillenglazen op zijn voorhoofd en twee voor zijn ogen, lijkt het of hij met vier koplampen is gewapend…”

Eggsy doesn’t make it further than that, Harry can tell the moment he’s asleep, his body lacks and his head turned into Harry’s knees. He lets him stay like that for about half an hour before waking him. The sun has tinged him slightly red but he does look better. Harry sends him off to find them lunch and then bed to sleep of the rest of his hang over so that he might look at least presentable for his Grandfather. 

The sun is just about setting again when they finally arrive. Eggsy has reappeared looking washed and presentable. Jamal and Ryan have made themselves scarce, giving a meek wave goodbye before disappearing down to the lake. They stand waiting for the car to stop, Eggsy rushing forward to help his mum out, while Harry makes himself busy with the luggage.

Michael Unwin had ways been one of the most attractive men Harry had ever know and still is. At 18, Harry had been enamoured by him, had spent the summer with Lee trying not to be obvious about how he'd felt. At 19, he'd spent the summer in Spain with a young man and promptly forgotten about Michael, such was the fickle love of youth. 

They greet each other in the way that old friends do, chatting idly about work and Michael's retirement. Harry and Lee manage to pull together a simple meal while Michelle rests and Eggsy catches up with his grandfather. Harry makes his excuses a short while after, desperate for a cigarette and some solitude.

The garden is particularly lovely at night, Lee having put up some lights to make it easier to see by. Michael and Eggsy are out on the patio, Eggsy having dug out his record player and crate of LP’s, something that he coverts with much pride. He can hear Eggsy rambling on as he slides another LP on to the player and sets the needle. Michael looks physically pained by the sound that comes out but Eggsy is smiling and tapping his fingers alone. 

“This one is my favourite. It’s amazing, it experiments with time signatures, flipping between 4/4 and 6/8 and the solo mixes. The solo mixes guitar and brass in a way that’s never been seen before. It’s a masterpiece.”

“It sounds terrible. What did you say they were called Emery, Pond and Wanker?”

“Emery, Pond and Wanker? Do you mean Emerson, Lake and Palmer? No, this is King Crimson. They are brilliant.”

“Sounds like bad jazz,” Michael laughs, “Your Father and Harry were obsessed with Elvis when they are at university. In fact, Lee had one of those good awful quiffs, kept trying to get Harry to get one as well if I remember correctly.”

“He never did succeed. Eventually he cut it off after your mother told him he looked like an idiot,” He smiles apologetically and raises the cigarette in his hand, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude.” 

Michael waves him over despite his protests and Eggsy is looking at him with a smooth façade of indifference. It feels so awkward to be sat here like nothing has happened, like neither of them has shown a vulnerable side of themselves to the other. 

“You would never guess my grandson was a genius with his awful taste in music.” Harry hums in agreement and Eggsy shots him a dirty look, like he doesn’t have the right to pass judgement on him, which Harry guess he doesn’t, “But then again you should hear him wax lyrical about the concepts of French classic romances. You’d think he were two separate people.”

“You should hear him talk about Anna Karenina, you’d think he’d already been to university with the way he talks about social change.”

Eggsy blushes under the attention, turning to take the record off the player and putting it back in the sleeve with the delicate attention of someone handling fine china. 

“It’s late. I’m going to head to bed. Ryan and Jamal want to go down the lake tomorrow to fish. ‘Sides I had a rough night last night.” He eyes Harry in a way that say he should stay quiet. He packs up the recorder quietly and disappears after a soft goodnight.

They sit in relative silence, Harry smoking his second cigarette and looking up the night sky like it holds the answers to this ridiculous situation. It’s Michael that speaks first, he’d always been able to read Harry, and put aside the beliefs that he had been raised with and shown him a kind hand.

“You should give him some time. Boys his age have no idea what they want. He’ll come around eventually.” 

Michael pats him gently on the arm before nodding his goodnight and leaving Harry to stew over that while his cigarette burns out. 

 

The day before he’s due to leave he agrees to take Michelle to the local market. It’s nothing more than a few stalls and small café but it suits their needs. He carries everything she buys and even manages to convince her to let him pay for lunch. 

By the time they’ve returned to the villa its late afternoon. The villa is quiet and Lee has left a scrawled note on the counter to say they’ve gone fishing. They chat while Michelle waddles around the kitchen putting the fruits of their travels away. 

"You know it wouldn't kill you to settle down," She has the kindest look on her face, hand resting on the swell of her stomach. “Lee is worried about you. I’m worried about you.”

Her face is flushed and Harry pulls out a seat guiding her into it. He'd rather not be responsible for her passing out, or have to deal with Lee's fussing like a headless chicken. Last time was enough, he still has a small scar on his thumb from when Lee had handed him a broken wine glass without even realising.

"You really should stop worrying. Both of you." Michelle sighs, accepting the glass of water that Harry has fetched for her. 

"Men, you're all as bad as each other," Harry takes a seat across from her, looking a little bemused, "you would know all about that. I really hope the baby is a girl, I’m tired of being out numbered. What about that University job Lee was telling me about?"

Harry can't help it when he rolls his eyes, he knows Lee means well but he's such a busy body at times. He wonders how Michelle manages to put up with him. 

"I'm thinking about it. Bloody Lee, he's such a loud mouth." Her laugh is most welcome and he finds himself smiling in return. 

"He's also your best friend."

"I know. There's nothing I'm more thankful for, but trust him to send you to do his dirty work." This is why they were fast friends, Michelle had always known when to take him with a pinch of salt and when exactly to put him is place.

"Is this about Eggsy?" There's a sincere look on her face and he feels like he should have known that this was where this was going, "Is that the reason your leaving?"

"No, Michelle, it's not Eggsy."

"He's a good kid, Harry."

"I know." He remembers the weak way Lee had smiled at him earlier that morning and how he had said same thing, how he had said that the didn't care that Eggsy was clearly head over heels for him. But the thing is, is that Harry does care, if this was another life time then maybe he would care but he does and he'd told Lee as much. 

Michelle reaches over to grasp his hand.

"Promise me you'll come and see us when the baby is born. Eggsy said he'd come back from Cambridge as well." 

"Of course, wild horses couldn't keep me."

 

They have an early dinner, spend a few hours talking over a good bottle or two of red wine. Eggsy nods off shortly after midnight. Michael happily takes himself and the boy to bed, Michelle having retired a few hours ago, complaining that the only way she can get any peace at the moment is to sleep before Lee tries to hog the bed. They spend another 2 hours discussing late 20th century poetry and called each other twats on more than occasion. Harry leaves Lee sleeping on the sofa, looking younger than he had in years and stumbles his way back down to the cabin. 

He’s just letting brushing his teeth when the power cuts out and he spends a frustrating 20 minutes locating firstly his lighter and then the candles and torch that had been left there for this kind of thing. He’s expecting the knock at the door this time but still isn’t expecting Eggsy. He lets him in, moving to collect the candles, lighting one and handing it to Eggsy before lighting a few more. They move around each other in a silent and graceful routine that would take any couple years to perfect.

“The power won’t come back on ‘til the morning. Dad wanted me to check on you.” Harry nods and turns to put the last of the candles on the side before turning back to the younger man. Eggsy takes a step into his space, looks at Harry with something like wonder and fear on his face, before leaning in. 

"What are you doing?" Eggsy huffs a laugh against his lips.

"I thought that was pretty obvious, old man." He presses himself further into Harry's space, look up at him through long black lashes, "you keep telling me to take what I want."

"This is not exactly what I meant." It's too late though, Eggsy's already kissing him, a barely there press of lips against his own. It's so sweet and innocent that Harry can't help himself, kisses back without much thought, pulls Eggsy closer still, wrapping an arm around his waist. 

It's clear that Eggsy doesn't really know what he's doing but he's easy to guide, opening up under Harry's tongue and whimpering when the older man's other hand finds his arse and squeezes. His own fingers dig into Harry's shoulders and it's too much, Harry hadn't been prepared for this to happen. 

Eggsy breaks away to nose at Harry's jawline before resting his head on the other man's shoulder and curling his arms around Harry.

"You have no idea what I want to do with you." He cradles Eggsy's head against his shoulder, rocking them gently and stroking his thumb over his neck. Eggsy clings a little tighter to Harry like maybe he could climb inside him, live there permanently and Harry wouldn't mind carrying him around like that. 

"I might," It's mumbled against his collarbone and Harry has to tilts his head back to look at him, ends up kissing him instead, "take me to bed, please?"

He undresses Eggsy slowly, takes great pleasure in every inch of tan skin that he revels. It doesn't hurt that Eggsy has a beautiful body, lean muscle and golden skin with just the lightest dusting of freckles on his shoulders. If they had more time, he thinks he's like to see how long it would take him for to make Eggsy a sobbing mess, but he doesn't and Harry has only himself to blame for that.

He's so very beautiful spread out like this. Responding to everything Harry does, keening and whimpering as Harry opens him with his fingers, clinging when Harry finally guides his cock into him. He comes quietly as Harry fucks into him slowly, holds on until Harry comes as well and sobs a little when Harry pulls out. 

Harry find them something to drink and lets Eggsy curl himself against his side. 

"Harry, you can't just leave." 

"I'm sorry." It's all he can say, let's Eggsy curl over him and steal his cigarette. 

"I'll miss you."

"I know, but in time that feeling will fade. You have so much time a head of you." Eggsy frowns, stubs out the cigarette and climbs on to Harry’s lap.

“You think so little of yourself. I’m not going to forget you or this or how I feel. I’m not. And I’m not about to let you forget about me either.” 

He pushes a hand between them, fingers searching out Harry's cock from where it lays flaccid on his thigh. Harry jerks against his touch, sensitive but still willing, let's Eggsy coax him back to full hardness. Eggsy watches him, drinks in the little flutters of pleasure on Harry's face.  
Eggsy rocks up onto his knees, one hand pressed against Harry's chest, and guides his cock back inside. He hissed a little at the stretch, fingers digging into Harry's shoulder. 

"Slowly," he rests a hand on Eggsy's lower stomach, ignoring the way his cock leaks and twitches in need, "Take your time. There's no need to rush."

He does, settles himself in Harry lap and rolls his hips slowly, builds a slow and steady rhythm, curses under his breath when Harry's fingers find his cock. He feels so full and fucked out already but Harry manages to make him feel so desperate and needy. It's perfect with Harry pressing up into him with enough strength that the bed creaks and he is desperate so desperate to make it last, to ingrain himself on Harry's memory that he'll never want to leave.

He comes with a sharp cry pressed against Harry's mouth, whines as Harry keeps fucking him through it and then comes himself with fingers digging painfully into Eggsy's hips.

 

Morning comes bright and far too early. They dress in silence and Eggsy let's himself out after a soft kiss goodbye and Harry knows that's what it is because as much as he would like to stay he can't. 

The day drags slowly and he doesn't bother going up to the house for breakfast, but does make an appearance at lunch, suitcase left by the front door. Eggsy is there, looking at him like one would a love, long since lost at sea. Michelle fusses over him, tries to give him extra helpings and tea like she’s suddenly worried he’ll starve to death on his flight. 

The meal is over far too soon and Harry has no other reasons to stay, his flight is in 4 hours and he really needs to think about heading to the airport. Michael beats him to the awkwardness of have to make his excuses. Gives Harry a knowing look when he casually asks him when his flight is and offers to help him with his luggage. Lee doesn’t allow that though, hefts Harry one pathetic suitcase to the car and puts it in the trunk for him 

Lee smiles, resting his hands on the trunk of the car as he looks at Eggsy sulking the door way of villa. 

"Sometimes I think you are most stubborn man I've ever met," he looks at Harry, squinting against the sun and for a moment they're 20 again and Lee is telling him about Michelle like she hung the stars just for him, while Harry remembers dark skinned Spanish men and the taste of Spanish wine, "he's old enough to make his own choices, you don't need to make them for him. Stop hiding Harry."

Somewhere behind them a dog barks and a child screams and laughs and Harry realises that world is still turning regardless of what he is or isn't. Eggsy is still looking at them from the door of the villa like he's waiting for Harry to stay. 

"I'm afraid something's are not that easy, my friend." 

Lee sighs and gathers him into a hug, knowing when the battle is lost. 

"Stay in touch. I mean it," he lets Harry go, resting his hands on the other man's shoulders, "take care of yourself, old man."

He turns back to the villa and Eggsy is still there, still waiting.

"Eggsy, come and say goodbye to Harry," Eggsy just shakes his head and goes back inside, "ah, sorry about that."

"Don't be. It's not his fault." He doesn't give Lee a chance to reply, simply climbs into the driver's seat and leaves.  

\----

Eggsy's first term at Cambridge starts on a horribly crisp day in late September and he can't for the life of him fathom why anyone would think that students would willingly want to attend lectures at 7am. Roxy gives him a filthy look as he flops down next to her and dumps his bag in the floor. There is nothing worse than Post War Russian literature to start the day, even with rumours of a new lecturer stepping in after the pervious one has supposedly been arrested possible espionage. Roxy is still looking at him when he’s gotten his materials out and chucked them on the shared table.

“What?” She arches an eyebrow and tilts her head towards the front of the lecture hall. He turns slowly, confused as to why she would care where he’s looking. He almost can’t believe what he’s seeing, is standing before he even realises, chair making a god-awful sound as it scraps across the floor.

“Mr Unwin, do you have a question?” He smiles, feels lighter for the first time in months. 

“Harry.”


End file.
